Alexander Frost

Mr. Frost,

I think of you often– more often than you imagine, if you even imagine me at all these days. Our story was brief to be sure, but it has left a lasting impression on me. Why I chose to disappear, I can't remember; but I wish I hadn't been such a fool. The "what if"s are the worst part of it all. What if we had gone on a picnic? What if we had gone off the deep end together?

It could have been something. I apologize.

I can only hope my name weasels it's way into your subconscious some day.

My red string is tied securely to my big toe– give your end a tug; I'll let you know if I feel it.

3 comments to Alexander Frost

  • A. Frost

    It’s strange, maybe heartbreaking in a way
    What you find when you google your own name

    Here I am, still, after all of the days
    Propelled by the cadence of your heart beats
    Wandering like a somnambulist to
    The meter of your every waking breath
    Transfixed as it crystallizes mid-air
    Lingers like spray from cold open oceans
    Tangled in the delicate web you’ve spun
    Anchored only by a strand of red thread
    By which I can feel the warmth of each blow
    Through the endless void of pale ocean blue
    That glittering blackness of starlit space
    That brings to mind your newly opened eyes
    When they are still unaware if what they see
    Is real, or part of some forgotten dream

    I ebb along, ever content to watch
    The tide kiss your feet as you walk the beach
    Where gunmetal-grey dawns disintegrate
    Into the delirium of evening
    When everything turns blue for you
    And your worries drift away into space
    (You dream something deeper than my madness)

  • Alexander

    Im right here…..

  • What is strange and heartbreaking is that I keep losing you. I encourage you to check back, if you care, because these posts are for you now.

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